You see a lot of hopeless old cows in the average abattoir...


But not this one, obviously. That's Big Sis putting the laughter back into slaughterhouse in the historic village of Lacock. A place which isn't as rude as it sounds.

After the excitement of fleecing The Well out of a five pound tip on Friday, Lisa didn't feel much like going out yesterday, and by mid afternoon it was looking like the highlight of the day was going to be the moment we realised we were out of toilet rolls. So when Sis returned from a cycle ride at 3pm, the two of us decided to take drastic action. I told Lisa to rest her gums, Sis grabbed her sat-nav, and we both hit the road for Lacock.

To be honest, I'd never heard of the place, but Sis informed me that it's basically ground zero for Harry Potter fans, and that all eight movies were shot there. A claim which was instantly cast into doubt when I pressed her for details and she started shrugging a lot. Lacock is, however, home to an impressive abbey...


That photo was taken by someone who was willing to pay ten quid to get through the gates. This photo was taken by someone who wasn't...


Having posed for pics at the gates of Lacock Abbey, I said to Sis "So is that Hogwarts in the films?". To which she replied "What's Hogwarts?". That was the point I stopped asking questions.

Moving swiftly on, we visited the Lacock Pottery, home of David McDowell, a happy potter, which is probably where the film rumours started. Sis pointed out a mirror she'd like for Christmas, I pointed out that I don't earn that much in a month, and we moved back outside for a photo...


Fortunately a passing tourist took pity on our plight, and offered to take a photo of the two of us together, so we did our best to look like young lovers (neither of which we are) and posed on the historic tarmac by St. Cyriac's church...


By that point, I'd acquired a green bag of goodies from the slaughterhouse. Lacock is full of little craftsmen and gift-sellers. Even the residents are hawking souvenirs from their doorsteps. So in addition to purchasing a hand-made light-pull for the bathroom (don't ask), I also popped into the abattoir and bought a solar-powered dancing monkey for Amelie. It was only four quid. Which seemed like a bargain, until I got it home and found it doesn't work. I considered taking it back, but it would cost £2 to park and £5 in petrol, so I'm not sure it's worth it. I'll just tell Amelie I was too late to save it from the slaughtermen.

We made our way back via the oldest building in Lacock, a 14th century tithe barn, where we did our best to soak up the historic atmosphere, and really get a feel for the gruelling hardships of life in the Middle Ages...


Obviously we failed. But Lisa's forty-two, so we'll ask her.